Can I barf now? "Um, Cheyenne? What about Ivy?" Rose asked. A skitter of anticipation raced down my spine. "What about Ivy?" Cheyenne snapped. Okay. Clearly no love lost there. "Well, she would've been in Billings no Q last year if she hadn't gone MIA," Portia said, inspecting her nails. "Should we re-extend the invite?" "No. We want juniors only. The whole point is to guide the future of the house, not take someone new who will be out of here in a few months," Cheyenne said. "Besides, did no one hear a word I just said? I don't really think Ivy Slade is the right sort of girl." There were many knowing glances and a few snickers. Rose, however, did not look happy. "We will choose our new housemates from among the junior class, and we will choose wisely," Cheyenne said. "It's up to us to ensure the future of this house."
Out in the lobby, the front door opened. We all looked around, wondering who was missing. It sounded as if a crowd had just walked through the door. Seconds later Headmaster Cromwell appeared, practically filling the parlor doorway. He looked down the table with obvious distaste. "Ladies." "Headmaster! Hello," Cheyenne greeted him uncertainly. He stepped aside slightly. "Come in. Let's not be shy," he said over his shoulder. There was stunned silence as six girls walked into the room and lined up by the lace curtains at the front window. Lorna Gross, Missy Thurber, Constance Talbot, Kiki Rose, Astrid Chou--who as far as I knew was Cheyenne's friend from Barton School--and the new girl from the chapel. Miss Island Nation, as Lorna had called her.
"Ladies, allow me to introduce your new housemates," the headmaster said with a curt nod. "What!?" Cheyenne blurted. Screeched, actually. The headmaster eyed her with disdain. "These girls are among the elite in the junior class. They have been selected by the board of directors and have been granted the honor of residing in Billings House." Tiffany snapped their picture. Everyone else around me looked appalled. He had to be kidding. They couldn't just decide who was going to live in Billings. That wasn't how it was done. But then I noticed Constance's expression. She looked like a five-year-old who'd just been dropped off at Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. That lessened the sting. At least enough to make me smile. "Headmaster Cromwell." Cheyenne's voice sounded weak as she tried to regain her senses. She gripped the back of Tiffany's chair and faced him. "I'm sorry, but the women of Billings House have always selected our own housemates. It's one of the privileges of living here. That's how it's always been done. For the past eighty years."
The headmaster eyed Cheyenne with a look of barely veiled disdain. "Ms. Martin, is it?" "Yes, sir." She was clearly pleased that her reputation preceded her. "I heard all about you from Dean Marcus," he said. "Including the little deal you made with him last year to get you and your friends off campus during the holidays." Cheyenne's smile faltered a bit. "Well, let me make something perfectly clear to you," he continued. "I do not make deals with students. I tell you how it's going to be, and your response is, 'Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Good day, sir.'" Every single one of us was frozen in place. "As of today, this house will no longer be run like a sorority," he continued with a sniff. He reached over Rose's shoulder and picked up her place card, which he glanced over quickly
before flicking it back on the table with obvious disgust. London pulled hers to her as if to hide it. "I've heard about your rituals and initiations. That all stops now. This is a dormitory. A living space. That is all."
I felt a dart of pain shoot through me and knew that the others probably felt the degradation even more acutely. Living in Billings was supposed to mean something. It meant something to all of us. And he'd just snatched that away and insulted us in the process. "Do you have anything to say to that, Ms. Martin?" he asked, lifting his chin. 1 . . . "Yes, sir. ..," he prompted her. Wow. This was humiliating. Big time, boob-out-of-bathing-suit humiliating. Cheyenne cleared her throat and cast her eyes at the ground. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Good day, sir." At least she put some sarcastic emphasis on the last sir. That was something. "I'll leave you all to get to know each other," the headmaster said. Then he turned on his heel and strode out. For a long moment, nobody moved. Cheyenne's ire could have incinerated the whole room.
"That man needs a good shagging," Astrid joked, her British accent somehow making the joke funnier. Everyone laughed nervously. Everyone except Cheyenne. "They can't do this to us," she said, her voice like ice. "I think they just did," Tiffany replied. "No. This is my senior year. They can't just change everything now," Cheyenne ranted. "They just can't. I've been looking forward to this for my entire Easton career. They can't just bring us these random people and expect that to be it!" "Cheyenne," Rose scolded, jumping up. She glanced at the six girls by the window apologetically, then grabbed Cheyenne's wrist and pulled her into the corner, talking to her in low tones. Vienna and London quickly joined them. I glanced at the other girls at the table, who looked just as dumbstruck and unsure as I felt. But it couldn't have been half of what Constance and the new girls were feeling. I couldn't just let them stand there all uncertain and out of place. I got up and gave Constance an awkward hug.
"Congratulations!" I told her. I couldn't think of anything else to say. A few of the other Billings Girls followed my lead and roused themselves to talk to our visitors. Gradually, chatter filled the room, drowning out Cheyenne and the others. "What's wrong with Cheyenne?" Constance whispered. "Does she really not want us here?" "She wants to vote, like always," I said. "She wants the power to decide who lives here. But what's she going to do? The headmaster seemed pretty serious. If he says you're living here, you're living here." "I don't believe it. I'm in Billings!" Constance said, wide-eyed. "Just wait till you see what's in those boxes," I told her, glancing at the table.
Constance glanced at the empty pink boxes strewn all over the place, then looked around the room, practically drooling as she noticed the diamond Bs everywhere. "Omigod! Am I going to get one?" she asked, reaching out to touch my pendant. I shrugged. "Looks to me like all the Billings girls have one, so ..." Constance quietly squealed and I moved on to Astrid, whom I'd met at Cheyenne's Christmas party last year. True to her original fashion sense, she was wearing a strapless dress with postage stamps all over it, yellow flats, and a flower in her short, shaggy hair. "Reed! It's so nice to see a familiar face," she said. "I know! What are you doing here?" I asked. "What happened to Barton?" "Caught me smoking behind the gymnasium one too many times, didn't they?" Her brown eyes gleamed with mischief. "But no matter. I always wanted to come here anyway." I introduced her to Kiki and Constance, then turned to the new girl who stood in the corner, her hands behind her back, shyly observing the room. "Sabine, right?" I said. Her face lit up, if possible rendering it even more beautiful. "Yes. How did you know? " Her English was slightly accented. French, as Josh predicted. I pulled the blue slip out of my back pocket and handed it to her. "I'm Reed. Looks like I'm supposed to show you around."
"Oh, merci! I'm so happy to meet you," Sabine said, hand to chest. "This place is a bit intimidating, no?" I smiled. "Just a tad." "No! Forget it!" Cheyenne blurted from across the room. "This is not acceptable!" She turned to the six newcomers. 'You! Sit!" she ordered, pointing her finger at the table. "The rest of you, my room. Now." She swept the six remaining jewelry boxes up in her arms as if she was afraid the new girls might pilfer them, then stormed out of the parlor, the rest of the Billings Girls trailing behind her. I looked at Sabine and the others with an apology in my eyes and sighed. "Okay. Maybe more than a tad."
CREATIVE THINKING
"They have no right to do this! What were they thinking?" Cheyenne ranted, pacing back and forth in her huge single room. She had taken Noelle and Ariana's old room again this year, but somehow had managed to secure it all to herself. It was still weird to be in here without Noelle's ridiculous mess on one side and Ariana's OCD primness on the other, but Cheyenne had done all she could to make it her own. She had a double bed set up near the bay window, two dressers, a huge desk, an ornate vanity table, and a sitting area. Plus room enough for all ten Billings residents to hang out at once. Everything in sight was white, pink, or mossy green--the bedspread, the chair coverings, the throw pillows, the fresh-cut flowers in the bay window. It was like she was living in an English garden. "I mean, Lorna Gross? I don't care if she did take a private jet to Switzerland for her nose job. She's still Lorna Gross!"
"And did you see that one girl's shoes? " Portia said, her eyes practically crossing as she inspected a lock of hair for split ends. "Wrong!" I looked at Tiffany, confused. Which girl was she talking about? Tiff simply shrugged. "Well, at least Astrid got in," I said, trying to find a tack that would placate Cheyenne. "Aren't you two, like, best friends?" Cheyenne leveled me with a glare. "We know each other," she corrected. "And that is so not the point." "But she is right. Transfer students never get into Billings," Rose piped in from her seat on one of Cheyenne's upholstered chairs. "Maybe the board did you a favor." "Are you kidding me? How am I the only one here who's upset? This is an affront to all of us," Cheyenne said. "They don't know what it takes to be in Billings. They can't just suddenly decide who's worthy. Each and every one of us was carefully selected by women who have lived here, who know what it's about. The board of directors has no clue, and Headmaster Cromwell certainly doesn't."
"Yeah, but Kiki and Constance are both cool. Kiki got First Honors twice last year, and Constance landed editor-in-chief of the Chronicle even though she's only a junior," I pointed out. "And I'm not the biggest fan of Lorna or Missy's either, but Missy's a Billings legacy. Wouldn't she have automatically gotten in anyway?" "The girl has a point," Tiffany said, toying with her camera. "But it doesn't change the fact that Evil HE just swooped in here and stripped us of our rights," Portia said. Her bangle bracelets jangled as she crossed her arms over her chest. "The man's an alum. He should know better." "Exactly," Cheyenne said, her eyes lighting up now that someone was getting her back. Unreal. Somehow I was still shocked by the Billings ego. "Yeah. And now we don't get to spy on the prospects." London pouted. "I was so looking forward to that part. I even got binoculars," she said, producing a sleek set of silver binocs from her leather Prada bag.
"See?" Cheyenne said, lifting a hand like this was such a heinous affront. "London didn't even get to use her binoculars." "Well, she did already use them on Ketlar this morning," Vienna joked, earning snickers all around. She and London slapped hands, their identical French manicures clicking together, looking quite pleased with themselves. I hoped Josh's room wasn't facing theirs. "Look, the way I see it, all this means is we don't have to do all the work," I said. "They already did it for us."
Honestly, I didn't like having my say in the matter taken away much more than anyone else did. But I had a feeling that my Billings sisters, with their indefinable standards, might not have accepted Constance, and I did not want to see that girl heartbroken. I couldn't imagine how crushed I would have been if on the same day I'd been invited into Billings, I had then been summarily tossed out. All I wanted to do was accept the decree and move on. Cheyenne's eyes flashed. "Laziness is no excuse for giving up everything that Billings stands for, Reed," she snapped. "Not that I'd expect you to understand that," she added under her breath. My face burned hot
. "Excuse me?" "What? Oh, nothing," she said with a sweet smile.
As irritated as I was, I didn't feel like getting into a knock-down, drag-out fight with Cheyenne, so I chose to ignore her dig and focus on the current issue. "I don't want to give up everything Billings stands for either, but what are we going to do? I say we just give the new girls their necklaces and get on with our year." There was a general murmur of assent that boosted my confidence. "Uh, no. I don't think so. They don't just get necklaces," Cheyenne said, cutting us all off. "We have no way of knowing if those girls are even Billings material." "Well, it's too late now," Rose said with a shrug. "They're moving in. They're gonna have to be Billings material." My thoughts exactly. Why couldn't I have said it first? Cheyenne's blue eyes narrowed. "Not necessarily." Oh, God. I didn't like that tone. A very familiar skitter of nervousness raced down my spine.
"Oooh, what're you thinking?" Vienna asked. Apparently, Vienna did like that tone. "I'm thinking we can still test them. Just because they're living under our roof, that doesn't mean they can't still be vetted," Cheyenne said. "We'll come up with a task for them to perform, and those who pass, fine. But those who don't..." A few of the girls eyed one another conspiratorially. I, however, was a blank. "Those who don't, what?" I asked. "Well, we'll deal with that when the time comes," Cheyenne said, crossing over to pat me on the shoulder like a little girl. "I don't get it," I said, trying to stave off whatever heinousness these girls had in mind. "The headmaster said they're living here. There's nothing we can do." "Oh, there's always something we can do, Reed," Cheyenne said with a beatific smile. "You just need a little creative thinking.
* * *
When I walked into my room after our brief and irritating meeting, Sabine was zipping her empty suitcase closed and stashing it under her bed. Her sheets were simple and white, and her closet was only half-filled with exotic, flimsy-looking clothing in all sorts of bright colors. Flat sandals lined the floor along with one pair of sneakers. There were three candles on the table next to her bed and two photos. A picture of her and two friends in bathing suits, standing in a simple bamboo frame, and a larger print of Sabine in a school uniform, hugging a woman who had to be her mother. This was framed in silver. "That's it?" I asked. She lifted a small stack of hardcover books off her bed and placed them on her desk next to a silver Apple laptop. "That is all." "Wow. And I thought I was a minimalist." I crossed over to my bed and sat down, facing her. She looked around at her things and shrugged her slim shoulders. "I wore a uniform at my old school, so I didn't need much. And I suppose sweaters and winter clothes take up more room, but I don't have those things yet. Do you know where I could buy a good coat? "
"I'm not the person you want to ask," I told her with a sardonic smile. "Portia or Cheyenne, maybe. If you follow my advice, you'll be so horribly last year," I joked, putting on a snobby voice. "Cheyenne? The girl with the temper?" Sabine shuddered. "No thank you." I smiled. "So, where are you from that you don't need a winter coat?" "Martinique," she said, pacing over to the window to gaze out at the mountains. "Have you ever been?" "Can't say that I have," I replied with a private smile. Actually, I'd never even been on a plane before, but she didn't need to know that. "It's a small island. Very hot. My family lives in a house on the beach, so I grew up in the sun and not wearing much of anything," she said with a wistful smile. "Sounds nice. Why come here?" I asked. "I've always wanted to see what it is like to live in the States," she said simply. Yeah. Easton Academy wasn't really going to give her a snapshot of a normal U.S. existence.
"It is strange, though. Being here," she said with a sigh, staring out the window. "How so?" I asked. Aside from the obvious. "I was so excited to come here. Life at home can be . . . complicated," she told me with a small, almost apologetic smile. "I couldn't wait to get away. But now that I'm here ..." "You miss home," I finished for her. "Exactement," she replied. I recalled that feeling. Last year I had sat in my room at Bradwell completely confused as to how I could possibly be homesick, what with my brother off at school and my mother catatonic in bed. And yet, there I was, verge-of-tears girl. I had, however, gotten over that fairly quickly, what with all the hazing, confusion, and abject fear that had soon come my way.
"You get used to it," I told her. "Really?" she looked at me hopefully, and I felt a pang in my chest. This girl needed a friend. Maybe Cromwell's mentor idea was a good one. "I promise," I replied. "Good. I'll just think of this as an adventure," Sabine said firmly. "It's like a different world, anyway. All the stone and brick and hills and trees. And the ceremony this morning? Like a scene from a novel." Her eyes gleamed with excitement. "Yeah. It is pretty cool," I agreed, remembering the warm rush I'd gotten the first time I'd seen it. That feeling of being part of something bigger. The optimistic expectation that it had inspired inside me. I could only hope that Sabine would have a better first semester than I'd had. But then, how could it possibly be any worse?
My computer let out a beep, and I got up to check my e-mail. "Sorry." "No problem," she said lightly. I blinked when I saw the address. [email protected]
. Dash? Dash McCafferty was e-mailing me? I felt an odd flutter of excitement in my chest and told myself to chill. I clicked it open. Hey Reed, Just wanted to check in and see how Easton is doing. Yale is just what I expected. A lot of people seem overwhelmed, but I think Easton may have been more difficult. My roommate's a fool, but after living with Gage, I think I can deal. Write back when you get a chance. –Dash "Oooh. Someone's blushing," Sabine said, walking over. "Who's it from?" I wasn't blushing. I couldn't be blushing. Just because Dash and I had shared that one freaky maybe-moment over the summer.. . "Just a friend," I told her. "He graduated last year." "Oh? Un petit ami?" she teased.
What the heck? Did I look flustered or something? Maybe I was a tad excited, but only because I was surprised that Dash would bother keeping in touch with me. That was all. "Uh, no. He was a friend's boyfriend," I told her. Was? Is? I had no idea. Dash had come to the Vineyard with his family for a wedding in August, and Natasha and I had hung out with him for a few days. But the whole time we were together, he didn't mention Noelle once. Taking his lead, we hadn't brought her up either, even though we'd both been dying to know what he knew. Still, it seemed cruel to mention it. How could he have possibly been dealing with the idea that his girlfriend had any sort of a hand--however inadvertent--in his best friend's death?
And then, that moment had happened. After the wedding Dash had shown up at the Old Fisherman--the restaurant I'd worked at all summer--slightly tipsy, his blond hair disheveled by the wind, still wearing his tux, but with the tie adorably loosened. I'd been closing up the porch tables on my own, and he had pitched right in, helping me stack the chairs and move everything toward the wall to protect them from the wind, as I did every night. He told me stories about all the uptight snobs at the wedding, and we ended up out there for an hour, laughing and talking as we looked out over the water. "I wish you'd been there," he said, leaning his thick forearms on the railing. "It would've been a lot more fun." My heart skipped a surprised beat at the way he was looking at me. "Yeah. Sounds like good people watching," I replied, trying to make light. "I can't believe I'm going to Yale in a few weeks," he said. "Yeah. College. It's so huge," I replied.
"No. Not that. I just wish ... I wish I could go back to Easton. Do senior year all over. I would do so many things differently," he told me in that earnest way of his. "Like what?" "Like . . ."He looked me in the eye in this searching way, and I froze. Even though I knew what he was thinking, even though I'd just talked to Josh from Germany two hours before, I didn't move. This was Dash McCafferty. He was almost mind-bogglingly gorgeous. And I swear, when he tipped his head toward mine, there was a moment of insanity in which I was going to kiss him back.
And then I remembered I had a conscience. I backed off. Cleared my throat, acted like nothing had happened, and so did he. By the next day I was absolutely positive I had imagined the whole thing. Or that I hadn't, but he'd been more drunk than I'd thought and hadn't known what he was doing. That he'd somehow thought in his bleary condition that I was Noelle. Okay, she was Vogue-level gorgeous and I was me, but we both had brown hair, similar heights, and athletic bods. It was possible. Whatever the case had been, I hadn't seen or heard from him again until this moment, even though his family had spent two more days on the island. "Oh. Well, tell him your new roommate said hello," Sabine said before moving back to arrange her things. I nervously started to type a quick response, my fingers shaking ever so slightly after recalling that summer night so vividly. Taking Dash's sort of detached lead, I filled him in on the new headmaster, the situation at Billings, and the mentor program. I had just hit send when Constance burst into our room. If there was one thing she was good for, it was total distraction.